


a bug's life

by heilan_coos



Series: The World of Humans [2]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Domestic Violence, Entomophilia, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-13
Updated: 2020-06-13
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:28:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24689908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heilan_coos/pseuds/heilan_coos
Summary: A weevil stuck in a very bad situation finds a release through work
Relationships: Original Male Character/Original Male Insect Character
Series: The World of Humans [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1785028
Comments: 3
Kudos: 12
Collections: Rare Male Slash Exchange 2020





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [OneEntireBee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/OneEntireBee/gifts).



Zeke was just beginning to wallow in the quiet calm of stirring a simmering stew when the door burst open so hard it bashed against the wall; he jumped enough to spill hot liquid all across his first few sternites that he had to race to clean off. 

It must have been a bad day at work to put Rob in such a foul mood. Not worth making it worse, so Zeke ignored the urge to welcome him back and got to sorting out a plate and pulling a beer from the fridge.

There were a few more thuds from around the little apartment as Rob kicked off his boots, dropped his bag and marched through the living room in his stocking feet; Zeke could imagine it from the sounds, all as clear as day, and he counted down the seconds until he was in the kitchen. It was a race to get everything plated and on the table before he burst into the room, but he made it with seconds to spare.

Rob cast an angry scowl at the table, as if he'd been hoping that it wouldn't be ready so he'd have an excuse to lash out, and Zeke swallowed his sigh of relief when instead his boyfriend dropped himself into the chair to take a long drink. He turned back to the sink, happy to be able to lose himself in the dishes and present as small a target as possible. Rob ate his dinner in relative peace, but the scrape of his cutlery stopped Zeke from ever truly relaxing into the rhythm of the work. He was done before Rob, and he realised quickly that he had nothing to busy himself with, and he may as well confront the issue so they can get it out of the way and then enjoy the evening with the air cleared.

He dropped to all six, the more natural body position and lower position comforting, letting him fortify himself. He was a foot shorter than Rob anyway, so it was better to give himself the little comfort of having his feet planted if things were to get ugly.

"Could I go shopping tomorrow? We're out of a couple of things."

The fork clattered as Rob stared at him.

"Have you fucking eaten through everything in this house again?"

Zeke crouched closer to the ground and said nothing, tracing the grout between the tiles. It wouldn't help to mention how little he'd been eating, or that it was the human food they were needing. Better to stay quiet.

Rob stood and crossed the little kitchen in one heavy step, grabbing hold of Zeke's rostrum and pulling it up so that he was staring into the full force of his contempt.

"You're just like all the rest of your kind, a fucking pest. Doing nothing all day but sitting around and eating my food while I work my ass off at the office."

Zeke swallowed, cowered so low his thorax was pressed against the freezing ceramic.

"I thought you wanted me to stay at home? I can get a-"

"Yeah, that was before I knew what an ass ache you were. Now I'm stuck with you; who's going to hire a good-for-nothing like you? Can't even read human, for fuck's sake. You're just lucky I let you stay here and clean up, and you're damn lucky you can't raise your voice through that stupid little mouth of yours."

He pulled Zeke's rostrum up, firm but not violent, to inspect it. Zeke let him, panic shooting through him as Rob watched him, thumb slowly brushing over his snout before he pushed it to the side and stalked over to the fridge for another beer.

"Can't even give good head," Rob grumbled. "You're lucky you at least have a hole to make up for it."

He grabbed his wallet from his jacket, threw the groceries money on the table and disappeared into the living room.

Zeke knew he was right. He was incredibly lucky, all told; most humans would never put up with his weird mannerisms or flip him back over when he got stuck like the klutz he was, never mind giving him a room over his head.

He'd tried living alone when he first came to the city, but weevils had a bad reputation from a couple of well-publicised xylophage tenants who ate through their new home meant he couldn't get a room, and since his vision was specialised away from small detail he struggled to read, which interfered with finding or keeping a job. It had been luck that had brought him to the bar where he found Rob, who'd taken him home and kept him. It was the most kindness he'd received, and there were times in bed he was so gentle Zeke was sure this had to be love. 


	2. Chapter 2

Getting a job was a struggle, one that he didn't dare ask Rob's help with, but eventually he found himself in a construction yard where the foreman thought he might be useful. He could chew through wood, carry loads, fly (clumsily) and walk up walls; a brief demonstration was all that was needed for him to get the job, no forms required. 

The hours were close to Rob's, and including the commute there would only be a few hours less time with him. He was surprised that anyone would hire such a layabout, but the prospect of more money coming into the household made him settle down relatively quickly.

His first day at work was exhilarating and chaotic as he was whirled through the important places, people and protocols. Once the supervisor, Mr. Brunswick, had gone through his checklist he was quickly buddied up to another of the workers, Toma, who he'd be working with day-to-day, and would be in charge of navigating him through anything that needed reading or writing.

Toma seemed like a strange one, even for a shut in like Zeke. His eyes had lit up the minute they were introduced and had kept staring as Brunswick talked over their duties. He was used to looks of antagonism or disgust from humans, but this... was different.

"So, what do I call you? Eupho... something?" Toma asked, bouncing on his heels. It reminded him of a predator gauging distance, and he took a step back. 

"Ah no, call me Zeke."

"Is that short for Eupho...whatsit?" Toma asked, moving a step closer in.

"No... there were a couple of us from my genus on the orientation course when I first got here, so we all had the same name. Zeke was about the only name I could pronounce, so it was my nickname."

"I like it!" he said, heading off to the PPE cupboards. "How do you identify yourself in your own language?"

It was an odd language, one that not even Rob had asked him before, but he buzzed and clicked accordingly; Toma seemed to buckle at the knees for an instant before trotting back.

"Are you alright?"

"That, I could feel in my bones. It's good."

Zeke didn't understand, and continued to mull it all over as Toma busied himself, holding up various high-vis jackets and straps to find something that would work with the alien anatomy.

"It hardly seems worth it to put all these on you when you're so eye-catching already; nobody's going to miss you."

For a moment Zeke misunderstood, thought he'd been threatened again and his haemolymph ran cold, and then Toma patted his leg with a wide grin on his face and he relaxed again. Of course it was about the turquoise, black and green stripes all across his exoskeleton, too loud by half according to Rob. He shirked again, feeling obvious, but Toma didn't seem phased.

They finished with the initial orientation in double quick time, Zeke now sporting a bright yellow armband on each of his legs, 'the bare minimum for compliance,' and then it was familiarising himself with the structure. Toma stood at ground level as Zeke explored and tested his footing, upside down as often as he was vertical, and by the time he flew back down Toma's mouth was hanging wide open.

"That's the coolest thing I've ever seen, for sure. I've never worked with a bug before, you're so strong!"

The praise shrivelled him up, and he cowered down to the ground again.

"It's nothing, all of us can do that," he said, the words nothing more than a hum.

"Yes, but it's still cool! Better than I can do with these weedy things," he laughed, flexing his biceps. "You'll have to give me a flight some day."

"Is that okay? With Health and Safety, I mean?"

Toma hummed, brushing a knuckle across his bottom lip. 

"It'll have to be outside work then," he said, completely serious, and then bounced off to look out the first load that needed moving. 

Humans are confounding, thought Zeke as he followed him back.

He noticed more strange behaviour from Toma as the days went on and work slowly become his reprieve from the stress back at the apartment. 

Sometimes Toma would get distracted and fall behind as they walked around the site, and if he looked back he was staring. 

"Sorry, it's distracting when you're walking like that," he said once, and Zeke immediately lurched up to walk on his back two feet, waving slightly.

"You could have told me if it upset you, I will stop," Zeke said, horribly embarrassed, but Toma shook his head violently.

"No, no, I like it! It's got... rhythm."

There was something in his eyes, a heat that he hadn't seen for so long, and Zeke found himself liking it a lot. It was surprising and exciting, compounded by the sickening nerves at the thought of any of Toma's flirtation getting back to Rob. 

He was so out of sorts that he completely lost track of where he was going, and only the faint shout at the edge of his awareness alerted him, too late to stop walking right into a bag of cement. It burst over him in a cloud and he backpeddled in a mess of limbs until he hit the wall. He immediately set to cleaning his eyes with his front legs, and they were just about clear when Toma came up to him, dustpan in hand.

"No wet," he said softly as he started to brush along the plates and creases, and Zeke did his best to comply as he rubbed his hands against each other.

"It's softer than I'd imagined," Toma whispered, his strokes soft and even across Zeke's back.

"Pardon?"

"Uh, I guess I'd wondered. Sorry. It's not creepy, I promise! But you're fascinating."

"Not weird?" he asked, the thrill flushing through him again.

"Nah, you're pretty perfect in my eyes."


	3. Chapter 3

It was never going to last forever.

He was pretty sure he hadn't missed any signs, but something must have flipped for Rob while he'd been too busy being happy to notice. He hadn't meant to work late at the site but there was a call for drinks after work and it hadn't crossed his mind to say no, too buzzed at being invited. Still, he'd only stayed for one drink, Toma trying to pull him back as he stood but it hadn't been worth the risk.

It had been obvious that he was in trouble as soon as the door closed behind him. There had been a growl and a slam from further into the house, and then Rob was in front of him, snarling. 

"At fucking last," he said, moving closer as Zeke stood on his back legs and pressed himself against the door. "I guess you were out making friends?"

"Szzsorry," he said, the fear a buzz in his voice and his wing cases, which rumbled against the door. "Held up at work?"

Rob towered above him, grabbing at his snout and ducking his head to sniff at his mouth. 

"Filthy liar. Were they getting you drunk to loosen you up, fucking you round the back of the lot? They'll realise soon enough that it's all you're good for."

Zeke recoiled as far as he could, Rob still holding onto his face, too scared to respond with more than shrill buzzing.

"In fact, it would be better to stop this nonsense now before they figure it out, and they can get themselves a worthwhile replacement."

Before he could even register it Zeke found himself spun around by the head and a hard push to his shoulder, four legs pressed against the warm wood of the door. He was babbling apologies, words and buzzes blurring together but Rob only leaned forward to grab a leg firmly in his hand, so firm he thought the chitin would snap. 

Then came a slap to the end of his abdomen, so hard it pushed him further up against the door, and he froze, feeling his genital capsule retract further in. He'd never been this scared before, and Rob had never been this angry; he couldn't think of anything to do or say as he heard the buckle clatter loose.

It wasn't supposed to happen this way, and they'd never even attempted it; it was too tight and too dry, and he could feel every millimeter as Rob crammed his way into him, his cock squeezing and rubbing against Zeke's aedeagus as he dragged himself out and then drove back in. It was too much, the friction against him and his stretching walls too strong that he couldn't help but move with the thrusts; maybe if he came it wouldn't hurt as much. 

"I can sort it out for you, Zeke," Rob growled, his face so close the waves of alcohol stench hitting him almost made him retch. "I can give him a reason to stay home rather than cluttering up the site."

His face left Zeke's as he pulled himself upright, both hands rubbing their ways up to his back. He pressed on the seam of his elytra, pushing the wing cases apart even as he kept fucking into him, and the fear of them snapping off was enough that he let them by pried open, but immediately he recognised his mistake as he felt the fingers trace along the veins of his right wing and pull it gently free.

"They'll have to dismiss you if you can't fly," Rob mused, his rhythm slowing, still pushing deep enough it felt as though his sternites were being pushed apart from the inside. He ran the wing through his fingers, the tender sensation jolting through Zeke in little shocks. "You'd work too slow, grounded, they'd just hire another pest. You're everywhere once you start looking." 

The pushing hand on his elytron left and he was forced to the door just by the thrusting and the delicate hold on his wing, but then there were two hands on the membrane, pulling ever so gently in opposite directions, and the fear took hold. 

It was nothing other than blind terror at the thought of losing his wing, and all thought of being smaller or weaker didn't matter; he braced his hind feet against the floor and ran backwards before Rob's cock could spear him again. They collided against the interior wall and bounced off, the hold on his wing lost as Rob was shaken off, the wind knocked from his lungs as he sank to the floor. The exhilaration and fear roared in Zeke as he snapped his wing cases closed and dropped to all six, wheeling round, the full weight of his large abdomen right at head height to smack it off the wall where he lay, unconscious.

He turned, still in a panic, to see a rising chest and a pool of blood and knew he couldn't stay there any longer. He gathered the necessary things in a bag; his documents, his meager personal items, and held them to his thorax with his middle legs as he made his way down the stairs. He heard the window open as he made it to the street, curses following him into the night.

It was a long wait until the start of the shift, and Brunswick gave him a hell of a look as he opened up, giving him a line about there being such a thing as overeager. There was no fooling Toma, between his sluggishness and the too-large bag draped over the top of their lockers.

"What's up?" he asked, one hand gingerly laid on his scutellum. "You move out?"

Zeke sagged, the frustration, shame and pain crawling all over him.

"I guess so. We broke up."

It was an understatement, but there was no way he could tell him what really happened. It was too much, bubbling just below the surface.

Toma stood stock still, and then slowly knelt down beside him.

"You can always stay at my place, you know."

When Zeke turned to look at him he held his hands up defensively. "It's not like that, I promise! I can't say I'm not super... _super_ attracted or anything, but it would be completely platonic. Flatmates, promise!"

He watched the hope on Toma's face, and let himself hope as well.

It took a couple of months and a lot of drunken moments after late night movies, crunched in tight on their little couch, but eventually Zeke made the first move, rubbing his snout against Toma's neck. He'd almost come on the spot, and they spent a lot of time after that figuring out what exactly could be done with it.

The first few weeks he'd spent a lot of his time on edge, waiting for Toma to switch like Rob had, for it all to get ugly, but it never happened. The only change was that he was somehow even hornier with time, and he got sweeter along with it. It took time, but eventually he got confident enough to send his first message home, now that there was finally good news to tell. Toma had sat smirking behind the camera the whole time, rushing in for a kiss the moment it stopped recording.

"I can't wait to write out all the thousands of invites."

**Author's Note:**

> two prompts for the price of one!


End file.
